


hold me close (because i’m a little unsteady)

by stevebuckiest



Series: crash landing on you [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Death, Domestic, Hair Brushing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Post-Mission, Showers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, adrenaline crash, but also not really i just dont know how to tag, off screen anyways, this is a d/s themed series but there’s no sex involved in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: It’s hard. Bucky knows that better than anyone. Dealing with a death you feel is your fault is one of the worst things in the world, and Steve...he feels things so deeply that Bucky wishes more than anything he could take it all away, but that’s part of who Steve is. He feels everything deep in his bones, thanks to the serum’s amplifying effect on his already ingrained traits- the grief, the anger, his love for Bucky, even the adrenaline of being in a mission.Which is something that’s unfortunately complicating their current situation. As if it already wasn’t hard enough without an adrenaline crash to worry about.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: crash landing on you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682023
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	hold me close (because i’m a little unsteady)

**Author's Note:**

> long time no see to the people who read this series...i wanted to add something a little different onto it, so here we are with this as the result. i like nonsexual submission a lot honestly, i think it makes the other stuff more meaningful and it makes sense to me that No Shit steve doesnt want to get railed (and bucky doesnt want to rail him) after every mission to fix things! losing people definitely kills the mood & sex isnt always the comfort tactic they need. anyways: i hope you enjoy!

Being together with someone for so long means a lot of things. To Bucky and Steve, it might even mean more than most considering just how long and hard the two of them have fought to be with and find each other- not only in the last life, but this one as well. They’ve been with each other for so long, have meant everything to each other for so many decades- Bucky has no problem calling them soulmates. It might be cliche and corny from outside perspectives, but he knows that if the concept of such a thing is true, it’d apply to the two of them. Soulmates. Best friends. Lovers. Family. And now, _husbands-_ they’ve been together through so much, that they mean everything to each other in every possible way. Bucky has been Steve’s friend, his lover, even his enemy under past unfortunate circumstances- just as Steve has been his. 

Because that’s what Steve is at the end of the day. _His_. 

So, like Bucky said, being with Steve for this long means a lot of things. Most of all, it means he _knows_ him, and knowing him means he can sure as hell tell that Steve is rattled out of his mind right now. He is after every mission, Bucky knows, but this time it’s particularly bad. Just like the mission had been. 

They’d lost people. More importantly, Steve had lost someone- a civilian trapped in an unstable building that he had tried to save. Just out of reach of the little girl still caged inside. She’d been crying for her momma while Steve tried to save her, but the building had been so torn up that he’d been blasted away from the force of it collapsing before he could even reach. Bucky had heard every awful second of the ordeal, right along with everyone else, played like the worst kind of message through the Bluetooth piece in his ear keeping him connected to the team.

To _Steve_ , who is currently slumped over with his elbows braced on his dirt covered knees, still gloved hands clasped together with knuckles pressing into his forehead like he’s reciting a prayer. His eyes are shut, and Bucky wishes he didn’t have to open them and deal with what’s happening. 

It’s hard. Bucky knows that better than anyone. Dealing with a death you feel is your fault is one of the worst things in the world, and Steve...he feels things so deeply that Bucky wishes more than anything he could take it all away, but that’s part of who Steve _is_. He feels everything deep in his bones, thanks to the serum’s amplifying effect on his already ingrained traits- the grief, the anger, his love for Bucky, even the adrenaline of being in a mission.

Which is something that’s unfortunately complicating their current situation. As if it already wasn’t hard enough _without_ an adrenaline crash to worry about. 

It doesn’t happen every mission, but it’s something that’s been happening long and often enough for Bucky to know how to handle it even if Steve has never quite gotten used to experiencing it. It always leaves him off balance, shattered and vulnerable in a way that he always hates after the fact, but Bucky is always there to pick up the pieces now that he’s back around to do it like he used to during the war. The cramped quinjet they’re in is a far cry from the tents and empty barn houses they used to do this in, but the gentle placement of Bucky’s hand on Steve’s shoulder is familiar, as is the blonde’s shallow inhale that the motion elicits. 

Everyone around them is just as beat up and beat down as the two of them- Steve wasn’t the only one who lost someone today, even if he is the only one being hit this hard by a serum-caused crash- so no one even looks up when Steve lets out a heavy sigh and shifts over to place one of his elbows on Bucky’s thigh and grip his flesh hand to hold up against his face pressed between his own clasped hands.

The soft leather of his gloves presses against Bucky’s bared palm as he laces his fingers between the ones on Steve’s hand facing them and squeezes gently, a silent _I’m here_ that leaves Steve exhaling shakily against his wrist and turning to tuck himself into Bucky’s space like he’s trying to hide. He might be. Like Bucky said: this time is bad. 

Normally Bucky might speak up a little, give Steve a gentle order or tease about what’s to come later in order to perk him up, but he doesn’t think this occasion calls for that type of handling or dominance, if he’s honest. It’s too somber, and Bucky can’t see either of them wanting to take things in a sexual direction for the rest of the day, if not the weekend. But he knows how to handle Steve through this even without that. He’s done it before. He’s never gonna _stop_ doing it as long as Steve still needs it. 

He squeezes Steve’s hand again and leans his head closer to keep his words private from disturbing everyone else. “You doing okay, punk?” It’s a shitty segway into things, but it’s all he has. 

It seems to do the trick regardless, getting Steve talking even if it is with a raspy voice turned hoarse from all the smoke inhalation not quite cleared out of his lungs yet. “I’m still breathing.” The statement is concerningly bitter. 

Bucky doesn’t press, just places his chin on the top of Steve’s ducked down head and combs through his matted hair with his metal fingers. “How’re your injuries?” 

“I’m fine,” Steve says hollowly. He clutches Bucky’s hands closer and keeps his eyes shut tight. “Everything will heal by tonight.”

In truth, most of their injuries will probably heal by the time they get home thanks to the serum, but that doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t worry. About Steve especially. People- including him- seem to think he’s invincible. He’s not. He hates that about himself, which is exactly why he’s trying to push Bucky away from helping him through what he thinks is a sign of weakness, as if Bucky hasn’t seen him in every worst moment of his life (barring the moments after he had to deal with Bucky’s death). He’s not weak. He’s just...human. The both are, even with the serum, something Bucky has always struggled to make Steve believe about himself. 

In truth, Bucky still struggles with reminding _himself_ of that fact sometimes. 

It’s a process, one they try to get through together. Bucky won’t be changing that now just because Steve is too far in his head to accept help. That’s _why_ Bucky is trying to help him. 

He strokes his hair some more, is quiet for a second. “We’ll be home in an hour,” he says carefully. “How about we take a shower together when we get back? I can order some food and we can spend the night in.” He pauses and lets the request sink in to settle Steve a bit before continuing. “I’m feelin’ a bit beat, myself.”

Steve, now feeling like he’s allowing the gentleness for Bucky and not himself (stubborn, self sacrificing little shit), nods into their hands. “That’s fine by me.”

“You should rest until we get home, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly, using the hand in Steve’s hair to press his hair towards him until his blonde strands are pressed against Bucky’s flesh shoulder. “You look tired.”

Steve takes in a deep breath even as he’s sinking closer into Bucky. “Buck, I don’t know if I can sleep,” he whispers. “Not after…” He swallows, eyes squeezing tighter, and Bucky shushes him before he retreats back in his head. 

“Don’t have to sleep, just rest for a little while. You got banged up today, punk. No arguments.”

Steve slumps a little at the veiled command. “I think-“ his voice falters, suddenly laden with insecurity, and Bucky knows he’s about to say he’s crashing. As if Bucky doesn’t already know. 

He saves him the struggle of getting the words out. “I know, Stevie. It’s okay.” He tugs on his hair lightly. “Don’t you apologize for it, either.”

“Sorry.”

Even when he’s down for the count, he manages to be a little shit. Bucky smiles tiredly and leans back more comfortably against the wall they’re sitting against, settling so Steve can do the same against him. “Just let me take care of you,” he murmurs, mindful to keep his voice low to avoid disturbing their teammates still sharing the jet with them. Clint and Natasha are asleep, but he wants to keep this between the two of them. Steve deserves to shatter in private, even if Bucky can’t give that to him like he deserves right now. “Just as much for me as it is for you.”

He’s saying that to help placate Steve’s stubbornness- but it is, really. It helps settle the nerves all jumbled up inside him of his own adrenaline crash and the knowledge that he could have lost Steve in the fight today. Losing people has hit him today too, even if it wasn’t as up close and personal as it was for Steve. 

Steve sighs, but relaxes anyways and lowers his hands. He keeps his fingers laced with Bucky’s, but otherwise leans his head against Bucky’s shoulder and quiets. “I’m fine,” he still says. 

“You will be,” Bucky responds, eyes falling shut. “Now try and get a little rest, sweetheart.” They’ll talk when they get back to their apartment. Bucky knows they won’t be doing it here, but at least he’s got Steve safe pressed against him. 

There’s another sigh, but Steve doesn’t say anything after that. Bucky settles for stroking his thumb over his healing knuckles instead. 

Steve, true to his word, doesn’t sleep the entire ride back. Neither does Bucky (how can he when he knows his husband is so shaken up?), but both of them stay quiet and still the rest of the time until Sam comes back from where he’s been on duty watching the jet on autopilot and helping land it to tell everyone that they’re back at the tower. The rest of the team rises, yawning, while Steve and Bucky take their sweet time rousing themselves. Whenever Steve is like this, Bucky tends to make sure that they’re the last two off the jet. No one else needs to see Steve stumbling like he is now as they get off and walk across the roof to the elevator. 

Bucky has an arm around his waist, half to keep Steve steady and half to maintain the contact for his own stress. He doesn’t remove it the entire way down to their shared floor, not even after they make it through the door and he immediately pulls Steve in for a hug that feels like it’s holding the both of them together. 

He could have lost him today- he came close to it. And as awful as it feels to be relieved after so many others died today...Bucky can’t help it. It makes him sick to feel this thankful when so much today was lost, but Steve is still here with him. How could Bucky not be grateful for that after they’ve been forced to spend so much time apart?

Steve is likely feeling the same thing, along with the self scolding anger the perceived selfishness brings with it, but he stays still and lets Bucky hold him, tucked up against his chest like they’d done every time after Bucky almost lost him to sickness or a fight before the war. Like they’d done during the war when the crashing and almost losing each other to violence was a fresh fight in itself. 

When Steve starts shaking, Bucky isn’t surprised. His guy doesn’t cry easy when it comes to most things, but in this headspace and situation, it’s expected. He just holds him tighter and whispers out “we’re home now” into his hair with a hand stroking up and down his still uniform clad back. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s whisper is so quiet against Bucky’s neck that he almost misses it, but it’s impossible to miss the devastation in his tone. “I shouldn’t need- not after-“ The _I failed_ goes unspoken. Not that Bucky wanted to hear it to begin with. 

He interrupts him firmly to avoid it. “You should need it now more than ever, sweetheart.” 

“It’s selfish.” Steve’s voice is muffled and a bit strangled. “I’m alive. I’m _fine_. Other people today...I shouldn’t.” He tries to squirm out of Bucky’s hold, but Bucky isn’t having it.

“It’s what? Selfish to be _alive_? Selfish to need some TLC after you got banged up and lost someone today?” Bucky says quietly, gripping at the back of Steve’s neck to keep him from turning too far away. “Stevie- we lose some. That’s how this job goes, and I wish we could avoid that every time, but we _can’t_. That’s not your fault.”

“ _But she was_!” And now Steve is sobbing into Bucky’s hold, the fight drained out of him as he forces the admission out of his torn up throat. “I could have saved her, and I _didn’t_! Not even with the serum, not even after I was _made_ to save people.” His crying gets quieter, but all the more painful. “That’s on my hands, Buck, how can I let you hold them through this when her death is still on me?”

And _Christ_. Bucky knows that Steve’s already high self blame and perception of weakness only gets worse when he’s crashing down like he is now, but this is heartbreaking even by his own perpetual martyr standards. Bucky has to swallow back tears of his own before he can speak.

“Steve,” he says. “ _Sweetheart_. You weren’t given the serum to make every life your responsibility. You try so _hard_ to save as many as you can, but you can’t save them all, and that’s not a failure. It isn’t your fault.” He pulls him back gently and looks at him with red rimmed eyes. “Baby, your safety is not the price of all this. You’ve given so much already.” He presses his lips to Steve’s temple and cups his jaw with his flesh hand, tears dripping down to soak into his skin. “It’s okay to be alive, Stevie. It’s okay to let yourself be taken care of when you need it even when things don’t go perfect. _Especially_ when things don’t go perfect.”

Steve’s sobbing only ratchets up until Bucky finally collapses them both onto the couch, Steve’s head curling into the crook of Bucky’s neck. “I can’t let myself be weak- not after I was already too weak to save her, Buck. I _can’t_.”

“You’re not weak,” Bucky whispers. “Not with me, Steve. Never with me. You can’t take care of yourself, that’s okay. I’ll do it for you, honey. That’s not weak, that’s just _us_. That’s how trust works.” He holds Steve close until the crying quiets down to a few spaced out sniffles. “I can’t make the guilt go away. That’s what keeps us both human. But I _can_ hold you through it, just like you do for me. Got it?”

Steve’s nod is slow, but it comes after a minute of ragged breathing that reminds Bucky of the asthma attacks he used to hold him through. Some things never change, it seems, time be damned. 

Steve’s voice comes out just as rough. “I’ve got it.”

Bucky kisses his hair with no mind to how filthy it is. “I’ve got _you._ ” And that’s that. 

They sit there in silence for another long few minutes, Bucky stroking his hand down Steve’s back while his breathing evens out and the tears dry, but eventually when Bucky thinks they’re both ready, he shifts. 

“You think you’re up for that shower I mentioned? We’re both pretty gross.”

Steve sighs into Bucky’s neck. “Yeah,” he says thickly. 

“I’m gonna go call for some food. You wanna go get the water ready for us?” It’s not the order that Steve might usually get when they’re fully playing at their game of Steve giving over control, but it does the trick to get him moving with a goal in mind, shoving up off the couch with a nod and slightly more settled look. Bucky grabs his wrist before he heads away. “Get out the lavender soap, please.” The scent (and the request) will help soothe both of their nerves a little. “You can get in after it’s ready, I’ll take care of putting our uniforms out afterwards. Don’t wait on me.”

Steve nods again, this time with a tired smile. He knows what Bucky is doing. “Should I wash my hair or…?” That’s a good sign. Steve wanting Bucky to do that for him always means he’s getting closer to accepting comfort. 

“Nah, you can wait on me for that part. I’ll be quick.” He squeezes Steve’s hand before letting his grip slip away, already working on fishing his phone out of one of his many uniform pockets. “Go ahead, honey.” With a final nod, Steve does. Bucky watches his tired frame slink inside the bathroom before sighing and dialing the tower’s food service for some soup and sandwiches to be delivered to them in half an hour. 

Steve is gonna be okay. Both of them are. 

By the time Bucky makes it to the bathroom, it’s filled with steam and the sound of Steve bumping around in the shower, presumably to wash himself. It smells like the lavender Bucky had requested, a fact that makes him smile while he strips of his (frankly disgusting) uniform to pile onto the floor next to Steve’s. He makes sure to let the buckles hit the tile to let Steve know he’s there, lest he accidentally startle him by getting in the shower unannounced. 

He doesn’t. When he slips the glass door open to join him, Steve is waiting for him with a washcloth already held out for Bucky to take. He still looks fragile and a bit wired, but better than before. Bucky can’t help but kiss him before he accepts the cloth, the first proper kiss they’ve shared since this morning. A welcome home. 

Steve sighs when Bucky pulls back away. “Everything good?” It takes a moment for Bucky to realize he means the shower. 

“Perfect,” he hums, working on soaping up his chest so he can get to Steve’s hair as quickly as he can. “Thanks, baby.”

“Yeah, I know how important your shower products are to you,” Steve mutters good naturedly, eyes fixed on the suds going down the drain. He’s pleased with himself for getting something as small as this right. 

“Get your hair wet, I’ll be done in a second.” Bucky goes through his usual quick tits-pits-and bits scrub for post mission showers before bending down to wash off his legs and feet, both of which are still sore from today’s earlier exertion. Steve is probably aching as well. Bucky makes a note to set out some of the painkillers Bruce had fashioned for them before bed. 

When Bucky straightens, Steve is waiting with now dripping wet hair, blonde strands darkened by the water. He looks so soft that Bucky has to kiss him again, even while he’s lathering up shampoo between his palms. Steve sinks his own fingers into Bucky’s hair, pulling the elastic free and dampening the strands. “You can go ahead and wash mine too,” Bucky says softly, pulling away and giving Steve a reassuring smile. He knows that’s what he wants. He likes feeling helpful when they’re like this. 

Steve nods. He still seems to be in a quiet mood, not saying a word while they both lather each other’s hair up, fingers (both flesh and metal) sinking in to massage against their heads. Bucky makes sure to press a little firmer. Might as well, with how caught up Steve still is inside his. 

He’s willing, at least, to let Bucky wrap him in a towel when they finally step out of the shower, blanket it around his back as soon as the water shuts off the way he used to back in Brooklyn when more than a minute of being damp and cold was an opportunity for sickness to sneak in. 

Now, Steve can’t get sick. But they still both don’t like the cold, for obvious reasons. Hence Bucky shepherding them to the bedroom for warm clothes as soon as possible. He lets Steve stand by the bed wrapped in his towel while he fishes out two pairs of briefs, soft sweats, and slumpy long-sleeved sleep shirts from their dresser, tossing them up on the comforter before reaching over a final time to drag their sock drawer open and pull out two pairs from the back side selection that they typically reserve for missions and special occasions

It sounds dumb, probably, to others that two grown men- super soliders, no less- have a stash of patterned socks specifically meant to wear under their uniforms or after they get back from missions, but, here they are with just that. It helps, Bucky thinks, to remind them both that they’re human under the personas. That they can find comfort in small things just as much as the normal individual. It started out as a joke, really, picking up dumb pairs whenever they’re out and randomly gifting them to each other just to see the other’s face at whatever ridiculous pun or pattern they’d gotten this time- but as Bucky fishes a pair out each for himself and Steve, he’s glad about it. They deserve soft, stupid things like this, especially after sad days. 

He tosses the pair he’d picked out for Steve towards him before tugging his own up his legs, towel discarded on the floor for the time being. “Get dressed,” he says gently. “Food’ll be here soon.”

Steve does as he’s told without speaking, only pausing a second to raise an eyebrow at the socks Bucky had made him catch- bright yellow, with honeycomb patterned print and HEY HONEY stamped on the bottom of the heel- before shaking his head with a faint smile and dropping his towel to start changing. Bucky grins to himself. He knew that’d get him perking up.

He’s just finished tugging on his shirt when the door buzzer sounds. “That must be the food,” he says, Steve nodding and tying the waistband on his sweats. “How about I go get that while you grab a couple blankets and go sit on the couch, get that movie we were gonna watch this weekend up on the TV?” The subtlety is just as transparent as last time.

Stege still nods though, obviously glad for the reprieve from choice. “Yeah, I got it.” Bucky gives him a quick kiss before grabbing both their towels from the floor to toss into the hamper on his way out the door, Steve working on gathering a few blankets from their linen closet behind him. 

The interaction with the worker dropping off their food is thankfully brief (Bucky still makes sure to tip him anyways before he sends him off), only taking a minute or two for Bucky to make it back from the door to the den where Steve is waiting, already bundled up on the couch like he was instructed to. There are a few subtle changes to what Bucky was expecting, though. 

Namely, the pillow on the ground in front of where Steve is sitting, tucked behind the coffee table and covered with a thick blanket, and the thick wooden hairbrush clutched in Steve’s right hand. Bucky smiles. He knows what his husband wants. He’s more than happy to give it to him without making him ask (like it’s gonna be a hardship to let Steve brush his hair). 

He sets the bag with their dinner inside it on top of the coffee table before climbing behind to sit on the spot Steve made for him, leaning easily back between the spread of his folded legs and smacking a kiss to his knee through the cotton of his sweats. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, Buck,” Steve murmurs back, cheeks pinking when Bucky twists to press a kiss to his opposite knee as well. 

“You hungry?”

Steve tentatively sets his fingers to card through the wet tangle of Bucky’s hair on his neck. “A little.” That’s code for _a lot_. The serum makes them both burn calories too fast, Bucky knows Steve must be starving, but is still warring with himself over admitting it because there’s something else he wants just as bad. 

He makes the call for him to avoid having to make the decision. “After, punk. Eat up first. You want a sandwich or soup?”

Steve looks down at his still shaky hands and sets the brush down by his thigh on the blanket. “Sandwich, please. Do you want the remote?” He’s still speaking so quietly that Bucky knows he must be on the come down, even if he’s through the worst of it. 

He tilts his head back until he’s looking up at Steve’s baby blues, tangling their fingers together against his shoulder with a squeeze. “I love you.”

Steve’s smile curves up slightly. “I love you back,” he says softly. Then, after a pause where Bucky pulls him in for an upside down kiss, “But...do you want the remote?” His voice is still low, but there’s the barest bit of teasing in it that lets Bucky know he’s feeling better. 

Bucky laughs and lets Steve pull away. “Nah, just hit play.” He squeezes his hand again, mindful of his freshly healed knuckles. “You can brush my hair after you’ve finished eating. As long as you don’t pull.” Bucky doesn’t respond well to anyone pulling his hair. They both know that. They both know _why_ , too. 

Steve hums in compliance, accepting the sandwich Bucky hands to him a moment later. “Thanks, Buck.” He sounds like he means for more than just the food, and Bucky butts his head against his knee fondly. 

“S’what I’m here for, sweetheart.” It is. He’s got a ring around his finger to prove it. 

The movie that Steve clicks on in the background is thankfully nothing heavy- just a dumb comedy that Bucky barely pays attention to with Steve sitting so close. It’s relaxing for him, too, having Steve like his with him. Dressed in clothes Bucky picked out, doing things Bucky told him to to get them both relaxed and feeling safe again, bundled up and breathing steadily behind him. It’s a far cry from watching him get blown back from a collapsing building- not that Bucky wants to think about that anymore when he’s finally got the both of them feeling better. 

Thankfully, Steve makes it easy not to once he starts brushing Bucky’s hair, gentle pulls of the bristles through his strands while he works on detangling it from where it’s knotted and still wet. 

It’s a bit of a ritual for them, the hair brushing- sometimes to help Bucky calm down after a bad session or mission, other times to help Steve do the same by steadying his hands. It’s a bit of both right now, Bucky thinks. Still, he can’t help but let his mind flash back to Steve’s outburst from earlier or the soft _“I think-_ “ from the jet. Bucky _knows_ how to take care of Steve through crashes without sex, it’s not like that fixes everything every time, but sometimes...he’s just not sure he’s doing enough _this_ time, is all. He worries. 

Like he said: this one was bad. It’s getting better now, but today isn’t something Bucky wants to cut corners on, not when it comes to Steve’s well being ( _or_ his own, his therapy brain helpfully supplies). 

He reaches his flesh hand up behind his head after a while once Steve feels like he’s done getting out the knots and gently halts him before he can bring the brush back down. Steve no doubt frowns, but lets him, too pliant to protest. 

Bucky is quick to clear the confusion. 

“You remember how my Ma used to make me brush Beck’s hair when we were kids and she was too tired?” he asks, feeling Steve shift behind him. Thankfully nothing too interesting is happening in the movie right now. 

Steve’s wrist flexes under Bucky’s hold. He must remember (probably better than Bucky himself does), which means he knows exactly what Bucky is going to ask- or rather _tell_ him to do. The warm tone of his voice a moment later cements that. “How many?”

Strokes, he means. After all, that was always how Winifred got Bucky to brush Becca’s hair properly, giving him a number and warning that she’d be able to tell if he missed a single one. It worked then, and Bucky hopes it’ll work for different reasons now. If nothing else, the nostalgia is calming enough to dwell on. 

He hums and releases Steve’s wrist with a brief nudge of his thumb over his pulse point. “How about a hundred?”

Steve ducks down to press a quick kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. “A hundred it is.”

Bucky might be imagining it because of his own more settled nerves, but he thinks Steve’s hands feel steadier when he gives his first few counted strokes. Just _giving_ the gentle direction made Bucky feel better, and since Steve is the one who more actively likes to recieve them (Bucky has had enough directions in his life already, thank you), he hopes that it’s done the same for him. 

He knows that nothing he does or Steve does can erase today’s sadness or its losses from their minds. He can’t get rid of the guilt Steve is feeling, even if he wishes he could. There’s nothing else they can do besides be there with and for each other. But as Bucky sits with Steve behind him in their home, just as safe and warm as Bucky himself, and listens to him humming along to the movie soundtrack as he brushes Bucky’s hair in a steady rhythm- he thinks this is enough. 

No matter what happens, this will _always_ be enough. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> now seems like a good time to tell you guys i think i’m going to be changing my ao3 name from mareviils to stevebuckiest. i deleted that tumblr because of some Things but it appears someone has taken the username for themselves which unsettles me slightly because that name was very much associated with Me...and since that is no longer me, there will be a change! so if you are subscribed to me or see one of my series pop up under a different user, it is me & hopefully i will still be recognized! 
> 
> as usual, i hope you had a good time reading & i hope maybe you’ll leave some feedback as well. stay safe x


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